Grandparents
by Foxfiregddss
Summary: This is really just a short story about sociology the study of humans , and is, in a way, demented. It is not based upon any book, so I am sorry to disappoint people, I only want your opinion on the content.


**This is not based off of any book, but just a short story of sociology, or a study of humans. Some things that are looked at: the importance of Prom, things we take for granted, and genocide. This is very short, so it won't take long to read it, but I would like your opinion on it. I was doing a genocide unit in school, and everyone is also going crazy about Prom, and my mind wouldn't let me rest until I spit this out.**

They say the Prom was big back then, our grandparents do. They say that everyone went to these dances, that you were either crazy or a recluse if you did not, although they do admit that there were some who did not choose to participate in the festivities. Magazines, my grandmother says they were a kind of book filled with pictures of clothes and things you could buy from the local stores, were filled with dresses for these dances. My grandmother even showed me one, although they had been outlawed several years ago and thought to have been destroyed. The dresses were horrid! No wonder they were outlawed, although no one enforces the law anymore because none were thought to exist. The clothes of the time did not even have a mersou attached. We girls love to wrap our mersous around our faces and flirt with the boys, but of course, only from afar.

Our grandparents love to talk about old times. I think they miss them. Why would they miss them when they have a much better life now? They are strange to us. The things they talk of are strange, but we sit and smile to amuse them. They say in old times elders were revered, but we think they are just trying to get us to listen to them. They talk of all sorts of strange things like bicycles, apples, and drapes. Oh, they love to talk of drapes. What is the point of having cloth hang over your window? If you did then no one would feel safe. If the Pintofs can not see in, how are they supposed to know if you are alright?

Our grandparents talk of crazy things. If we children talked like that, we would have to eat sugar. Sugar is the most horrid thing. We bounce around and laugh and can not sit still. Do you know what that is like? Not only do you get disgusted stares from other children, but we are quiet people. We like to be still. We have to process our foods to remove any sugar, or we can not eat it, but our grandparents love the stuff. No wonder they are crazy, we think. We would be too if we ate sugar.

The Regime has been wonderful to us. They take care of us. What would happen to us if they did not exist? I do not want to think of that. I do not think I care about what life would be like anyway. It would probably just be so strange, and so violent. We are peaceful people, calm people. Those who listen to the grandparents and believe their stories are only trouble makers. I think the grandparents should be removed, so they can no longer create trouble, but that is not a decision that is for me to decide.

They talk of hair, of how they used to wear it; up, and curled, and tight, and even short, instead of long and free like we girls do now. What sane girl would wear their hair up? That is right. No sane girl would. They laugh when they talk together, too. Laughter is an insult to any normal person. To laugh at what someone is saying is the rudest thing one person can do to the other, but the grandparents seem to deliberately say things that make each other laugh. "Laughter is the best medicine!" they say. "Medicine?" we ask. "Of course!" they say. Those who need medicine are weak. We should not associate with those who need medicine, for they are not worthy of being a part of the Regime. So, I have concluded that our grandparents are not worthy of the Regime. But, like I said before, that is not my decision to make. The others sit so passively, as if they do not care about the lies and evil things our grandparents say. They put up with them, but the longer we put up with them, the more trouble makers they will create.

But, it is ok. Hands, a secret organization consisting of those who think like me, will rid the Regime of our grandparents. Tonight, at the stroke of twelve-o-three, our grandparents shall pass on in their sleep and their stories shall be told no more.


End file.
